


Black Border Lights

by OXIGENIUSHIPSTER31



Category: Fargo - Fandom, Sharknado, Smosh, The Fault in our Stars - Fandom
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-19 00:40:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2367881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OXIGENIUSHIPSTER31/pseuds/OXIGENIUSHIPSTER31
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tale of the revolution.</p>
<p>From the multi kudos receiving writer of This Was Not Supposed To Happen, Procrastinator For Life, Fame, Love, More Fame, More Love, Even more Fame, Even more Love and some more Fame and Dark Identities</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Border Lights

Staring at his reflection, Ian contemplated the events of the previous days. The steam from the sink below created a barrier between him and the truth, his hand dismayyed this barrier with a lone swoop of his right hand. The truth stared back at him. The table had remained where it was from last night, Anthony's shirt was strew across the table. Though he had a T-Shirt underneath, he wore this shirt, un-bottoned, over as a fashion statement. Anthony was always more in-tuned with the latest fashion. Because of this, he folded the shirt before moving the table back into it's original position. "Hey man." Anthony said whilst passing Ian on his way to the kitchen "Hey." Ian hesitantly replied "You know, I was thinking that today we could finalise that anime wife-swap thing." "Yeah, yeah... Hey how is she?" "Who?" "Your fiance." "Oh, fuck she is, Kristen is doing just fine. Why do you ask?" "... No reason." "Anyway, I'm thinking that we could involve Joven as like the host of the TV show." "Joven, really?" "Yeah why not, he would look good in a suit." "Woah woah woah, are you saying that we would buy Joven a new suit?" "Well, he could just use one of yours." "I don't think we're the same size." "Really, oh. 'You ready to go?" "Yeah, I'm good." "Great, I'll be right back" Anthony announced while hardly patting Ian's shoulder. "So great" Ian whispered to himself.

The door swung open to Lasercorn checking his phone and Mari reading the latest exploits of Hazel Grace Lancaster from her iPad. "Mari, do you seriously read that crap?" Anthony questioned "You don't have cancer or a vagina so you wouldn't understand!" Mari angrily snapped "Calm down Mari, look John Green." Lasercorn tempted alluringally "So how you guys doin?" "We're good." "You know he said that he's four inches shorter than Joven" "No, that's what she said." Anthony and Mari recoiled in a mix of surprise, humour and rowdiness while Lasercorn festered in a temporary sense of power. Ian, respectfully, went along.

The channels were verilly flicked as Ian sat to the side of the sofa, controlling the channel flicks. "Anything on?" Anthony asked while searching in his bedroom "There is... The Cleveland Show, Auction Hunters, Ian Ziering with a chainsaw, oh Fargo!" Ian replied back "What with Steve Buschemi?" "Nah man, Martin Freeman." "Martin Freeman?" Anthony questioned while entering the room and gracing himself on the sofa, forcing Ian to move further "Is the hobbit really in this?" "Yeah man." "Oh shit, there he is." "Yes." "How did he break his nose?" "Do you want me to get the whole series on Netflix and then parade them in front of you?!" "Jesus, I'm gonna make some pop-tarts." Anthony then stood up and left Ian with a Hobbit and a guy who once fucked Halle Berry(See Monster's Ball for more information) He contemplated the previous day and how he had appeared in the videos, he remembered himself being the lesser, the fool in a hand of kings and one queen. He had always been like this. Ian then payed more attention to the television for solice. "If you just let yourself get trampled on by the boss and the wife, you're just gonna' get washed away." Ian was inspired by Billy Bob Thornton's persuasion. At this point, the pop tarts had thoroughly popped. Anthony walked back over to Ian flinging the pop tart in between his hands. From the wave of Anthony sitting down, Ian brought himself to his feet.

He moved longingly to his bedroom and to his bathroom. He firmly twisted the shower taps, the first few drops landing on Ian's calaced hands like a hoard of bees instinctively following the mother. Ian looked around at all the items in his bedroom, searching for one that matched his intentions. He had found one, the power adapter for his laptop, for some reason it had a weird extention that sticks out like a sore thumb. He carried the adapter in his left hand, he knew it would be much more powerful. Ian grabbed the remote and turned Fargo to mute, it was upto the point where Lester had just fixed the washing machine. "What the fuck now?" Anthony angrily questioned. He strook. Anthony's nose beared the impact, shooting at least an inch back. Blood and pop tart crumbs conumed both Ian and Anthony's vision. He strook. His tongue exploded from the teeth surrounding it. He strook and strook and strook. Anthony's hazel eyes corvorted back into his head for evermore. Ian put his arms under Anthony's arms and began to drag him. His, now cold, dead body made no noise flopping into the bathtub. Ian positioned him over the fawcet so it looked like suicide. Staring at his reflection, Ian contemplated the events of the previous days. The steam from the sink below created a barrier between him and the truth, his hand dismayyed this barrier with a lone swoop of his right hand. The truth stared back at him: We never found out Billy Bob Thornton's real name.


End file.
